


The Ones We Lost

by meet_me_onthe_equinox



Category: Parks and Recreation, parks and rec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-07 04:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12225612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_me_onthe_equinox/pseuds/meet_me_onthe_equinox
Summary: At some point in her life, April decided to become a therapist; a one-on-one job where she might be able to help others. Lately, though, it seems like she's losing both motivation and self-confidence. Maybe it's time for others to helpher.





	1. Easy

The alarm clock went off at 6 am, a death sentence to yet another uneventful vacation April had spent among grilled cheese nachos and Netflix warnings. The thin comforter over her weighted as if made of iron –she would get cold in bed even though summer hadn’t quite ended yet-, and for a moment April was sure trying to go back to work would be a lost cause, just like most of her clients.

No, she didn’t really think that. She wasn’t supposed to. There was hope for all of them, just like there had been for her. Why else would she have become a therapist? April grunted against the pillow, finally pulling away the covers despite their heaviness.

A silvery sky greeted her from above when she dragged the curtains open. April half smiled, knowing September was only the precursor of hot chocolate, naked trees and scary costumes. It was also the month of new faces at work, which definitely wasn’t that great. People had a tendency of trying to get their shit together that time of year, and so they would go to the gym, start insane diets and maybe take care of their mental health for a change. That usually didn’t last too long, but they could always count on all those New Year’s resolutions later on.

In any case, she could expect some new clients that day, and, since finishing breakfast was inexorably followed by leaving the house, April found herself stirring the soggy cereals in her coffee bowl for endless minutes instead of actually eating them.

‘‘C’mon, April,’’ she talked to herself, because even therapists do that. Or, at least, that’s what she hoped. ‘‘You love your job. Move, now.’’

Pushing aside the untouched food, she grabbed her purse and finally stepped outside, almost noticing the oxygen particles in the fresh air that she hadn’t breathed in for days.

 

The first droplets of rain started dabbing the windshield as April parked her new Volkswagen not far from her office. As it turned out, there are a lot more things you can afford if you get your own place and work as a freelancer, even though money wasn’t much of a priority when she started this. There was just no way April could keep driving around that ramshackle Saturn much longer.

Jen was already there, of course. She’d been one of April’s clients a couple of years ago, but after a few sessions it became clear that her stupid parents were way more troubled than Jen was. A strange bond formed between them in the mist of all the venting they did instead of therapy, and, when in need of an assistant, April didn’t think twice and hired her. She secretly dreamed of legally adopting her someday, and even though the young, gothic girl dropped more calls than she answered, April hadn’t once regretted it to date.

‘‘You’re late,’’ Jen said in a dull tone from behind her desk.

‘‘Shut up,’’ April rolled her eyes. ‘‘Anyway, how was your summer?’’

‘‘I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill her,’’ the girl nodded towards the comfy couches April had got installed in the last renovation of the waiting room.

April turned around, only to see Leslie Knope sitting there with a huge smile on her face. Despite all the progress she’d made over the last year, there was no way the blonde woman could wake up past 5 am, so sleepiness was long gone from her system by now.

‘‘Hi, April,’’ Leslie stood up and approached April with her arms open. ‘‘How are you?’’

‘‘Okay, stop it,’’ April grunted. ‘‘Stop or I’ll charge you 20 bucks more.’’

‘‘I don’t care,’’ the woman hugged her even tighter before finally letting go. ‘‘Now tell me, how did your vacation go? Did you make any new friends? Went to a lot of places?’’

_Not exactly._

‘‘You know the drill, Leslie. _I_ ask the questions, _you_ tell me about your life.’’

‘‘Alright,’’ Leslie sighed, and then gave her the kind of look April would have hated from any other person: the look of sympathy. ‘‘C’mon, I’ve got quite a lot to tell you, actually.’’

Both women headed to April’s office, a simple but comfortable room with another couch next to an armchair, and a coffee table between them. The ornaments were scarce, save for the paintings of sunsets and city lights at night hanging on the cream-colored walls. No plants, no divan, no weird air fresheners. No calming sounds besides the rain against the window. It was a comforting sound as Leslie talked less and less about her workaholic problem, and more about some Ben guy who had recently joined the Parks Department.

* * *

‘‘I still don’t get why you like this crap,’’ Jen handed the paper bag from JJ’s to her boss. She was drenched to the bone, but had managed to keep April’s meal safe underneath her leather jacket.

‘‘I still don’t get that you don’t know how to use an umbrella,’’ April bit back, rolling her lips right after because none of that was serious.

‘‘I like the rain,’’ Jen shrugged.

They remained in silence for a while; April enjoying her burger as Jen ate homemade Japanese food with some chopsticks. The day wasn’t going that bad, after all. Before lunch, April had only talked to three more clients, all of them well-known after months of therapy. Which probably meant the new ones would appear shortly.

‘‘Are we having new people over today?’’

‘‘Just a couple. There’s some OCD guy at three, then Chris Traeger, and some goof that wouldn’t even get the directions I gave him, so he probably won’t make it here.’’

‘‘Okay…’’ April breathed out.

She then attacked her fries, trying to focus on the heavenly flavor instead of the strangers that were to come.

* * *

Worrying about things beforehand was probably one of April’s worst flaws, and she knew that. She was done with all the judging people before actually knowing them, but unfortunately she wasn’t able to apply that philosophy when it came to situations per se. Meeting new people was one of her main sources of anxiety, but not because she expected them to be the worst. There wasn’t really a valid reason, yet she wished she could skip breaking the ice and doing all that small talk, and just know them enough to help them instantly.

It wasn’t that hard with Tom, at least. She learned the little man was not only harmless, but also a funny guy with some crazy business ideas on his mind. He was almost too fond of luxury, though, and had developed a strong need for all of his material possessions to remain perfectly clean. That eventually led him to a life of constantly washing his hands, so he spent so much money on the most expensive lotions sold in Eagleton in order to keep them hydrated. All in all, a piece of cake for April –who’d been working with OCD cases since she left college-, but also someone April ended up liking and laughing with.

As for Chris… Well, his _chrisis_ persisted.

Before long, April had only one more client to go for the day, and she wasn’t even sure whether he would be showing up. She waited a bit, because after all she was the last person that should blame others for any lack of punctuality. It was already a quarter past five when her office door opened at last.

‘‘Hi,’’ Jen entered the room. She was texting someone on the phone, never bothering to look up. ‘‘Hmm... I don’t think that guy is coming.’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ April let out a sigh of relief. Yes, Tom had turned out to be nice, but there were never any guarantees. ‘‘Guess he’s not.’’

‘‘Can I go home early?’’ Jen pressed _send_ and eyed her as she spoke.

‘‘Okay. But, please, grab an umbrella before you leave. I mean, I can’t afford to have you sick at home.’’

‘‘Yes, mom,’’ Jen scoffed.

A thunder resounded outside and between the office walls. She just hoped Jen would get home safe.

 

By 5:30, April decided she’d waited long enough, grabbed all her stuff and walked out of her office. Once she made sure all the lights were off in the waiting room, she headed towards the main door. But she hit a brick wall as soon as she stepped out. At least, it seemed as orangey under the street lights, and even though it felt softer in a way, the impact sent her backwards following the laws of physics.

A pair of strong arms caught her before she hit the floor. Adapting to the darkness, April’s eyes glimpsed a tall, faceless figure blocking the exit. She certainly could not fight, and flight wasn’t exactly an option. All she had was screaming, and she was about to do just that when the man in front of her let go of her upper arms.

‘‘Oh, sorry,’’ he chuckled. ‘‘Am I too late?’’

April took a deep breath, her heart still racing frantically. She fumbled for the light switch on the wall beside her, hoping a clearer sight would help her calm down. Soon enough, the waiting room was illuminated again, and so were that man’s features. The orange plaid shirt she’d mistaken for a brick wall fit perfectly with the guy’s grunge look. And, despite his huge size, all the menacing aspects of his presence completely vanished as soon as April saw his face. There was a dumb, yet warm smile on it, and something in his eyes… She wouldn’t have been able to describe it with words –and how corny would those words be if she could-, but she’d never seen that in anyone’s look before. Somehow, April relaxed immediately.

The therapist took a few steps back so he could come in. She realized now that both his clothes and his sandy hair were as soaked as Jen had been earlier that day. He wiped his forehead and bearded cheeks against his equally wet shirt sleeve.

 ‘‘Are you, huh…?’’

‘‘Andy. Andy Dwyer,’’ he held out one hand.

April’s fingers disappeared into his, feeling the same warmth she’d found in his smile.

‘‘You must be April,’’ he went on. ‘‘Sorry I’m this late. I dropped my cell phone in a bowl of cereal last week, and I’m terrible at following directions, so I couldn’t fi-’’

‘‘It’s okay,’’ she half-smiled. ‘‘I’m late all the time.’’

‘‘So, huh… I’m kinda new at this stuff,’’ Andy scratched the back of his neck.

‘‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s pretty simple, actually. Usually we go in there and talk about… you know, life.’’

‘‘It does sound easy,’’ he laughed.

And maybe, with Andy, it would be.


	2. Sense

_Andy Dwyer_ , April jotted down on her clipboard. Her handwriting had had a strange look earlier that morning, given that she’d barely wrote anything in almost three months (not even a mere shopping list). But now, after a whole day of taking notes on her clients’ mishaps, the words were at least legible.

Sitting cross-legged on the ash armchair, April slowly lifted her head from the papers, only to see Andy staring at her from the couch where patients would normally lie. Except he was just sitting there, the stripped blanket April had rescued from one of her desk drawers around his shoulders. She kept it there only for herself (April tended to get cold whenever she had to work late), but the only other option was probably Andy dying of hypothermia. Now the office heating kept them warm like a private climate, while the heavy rain still poured violently outside.

‘‘This place is nice,’’ Andy piped up before April could think of something to break the ice with. ‘‘Do you live here?’’

‘‘No,’’ she rolled her eyes. ‘‘I just work here.’’

‘‘Right.’’

‘‘Well, huh… How are you?’’

That might seem like the dumbest thing to ask; April was well aware of it. But she couldn’t see herself beginning a new therapy without a solid knowledge of the patient’s mental state. It wasn’t meant to be a casual question leading up to the serious talk they both wanted, but the beginning of it, an obvious evidence that she really cared.

‘‘A little less cold, thanks.’’

‘‘Okay,’’ she repressed a smile by rolling her lips in an attempt to stay professional. ‘‘And… how are you feeling? Emotionally?’’

‘‘Good, I guess.’’

April squelched a sigh. That response was so rooted in society, it seemed like there was no alternative to it. By this point, she was convinced that the well-practiced, automatic answer was the reason no one could really reach anyone, yet she was determined to recover that missing connection, if only for the people that came to see her. Then why had it been so hard to wake up that morning?

But the _I guess_ part was the key. And she knew how to deal with those two words.

‘‘So, what would you like to talk about?’’

‘‘Hmm,’’ Andy pondered it for a second, scratching his stubble. ‘‘What about nachos? I mean, there’s a whole debate on whether or not you should melt the cheese.’’

‘‘Who would melt it, though?’’ April went with it.

‘‘Exactly! Burly and the others always give me a hard time because I never do,’’ he laughed.

‘‘Burly?’’

‘‘My roommate. He’s the reason I’m here, actually.’’

‘‘You lost a bet or something?’’

‘‘No,’’ he chuckled, and then his expression turned earnest, pensive. ‘‘He told me that doctors for your mind are actually a thing, and that maybe I should see one.’’

Another thunder boomed in the black sky, startling Andy under the blanket. He was a strange man, indeed. April couldn’t help but wondering about him on a personal level. On the one hand, she felt like she was talking to a nine-year-old. There was an innocence to him like she’d never seen in any other client before, or anyone, really. And yet there was something in his eyes that revealed something deeper, a sensibility which might as well allow him to understand more than he seemed capable of.

‘‘Why would he think so?’’ April asked.

‘‘I don’t know,’’ he sighed. ‘‘He said I could use some help with my… grieving, I think? But I don’t even know what that means.’’

‘‘Oh. Well, it’s like, when you lose someone or something and you need to… take some time to understand and accept the loss.’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Andy averted his look for the first time, as if the carpet was now the most interesting thing in the room. ‘‘That makes sense.’’

‘‘D’you wanna talk about it?’’

‘‘I don’t think I’m that sad, really,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘Except I don’t get why my father had to pass so soon, and I’m constantly thinking about the things I never said to him, or everything we won’t ever get to do, and all the plans we made that make no sense now, just like his death, and maybe Burly is right when he complains about me writing the saddest songs for the band ever since _that day_.’’

The tone of Andy’s voice had increased with every word until he was practically yelling; his internal storm muffling the outer one. For a moment, all April wanted to do was stand up from her cold throne, sit next to him and wrap her arms around that huge, drenched man she barely knew. 

 _Remain professional_ , _Ludgate_.

‘‘That sucks,’’ she said instead.

‘‘It does!’’ Andy buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes, seemingly trying to calm himself down. ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ he apologized when he eyed April again.

‘‘Don’t be. This is why we’re here, you know? You can vent all you want.’’

‘‘Thanks,’’ Andy half-smiled at her, his reddened face regaining its natural paleness.

‘‘So… Would you tell me about your father?’’

‘‘Okay,’’ he nodded. ‘‘I don’t know where to begin, though.’’

‘‘Hmm…’’ April pressed the pen she’d been holding against her lips, and only then did she realize she hadn’t written anything down. ‘‘Well, how did he like his nachos?’’

‘‘Damnit…’’ Andy scoffed.

‘‘What?’’

‘‘He would also melt the cheese!’’

And, just like that, they both started laughing. April forgot everything on the therapist manual. She forgot every ounce of self-doubt, every wasted day in that wasted summer that had taken too long to end. She just laughed and talked to Andy like he was the old friend she’d never really had. And, before she knew it, they were way past the time their session was supposed to finish.

If anything, Andy had reminded her why she did what she did.


	3. The Artist

The most important thing April had learned throughout the years was how to read people. Although she wasn’t quite sure one could gain such skill just by reading dozens of books for five years of college. Maybe empathy was something people were either born with or not, just like talent. Maybe empathy was an art itself. That evening, Andy seemed to her like a potential masterpiece.

He described himself as someone who had lived in Pawnee his whole life, that had been in a band for almost as long, and all in all, a nice guy. All of that was true, but as a natural reader, April saw much more in him. She found he was a part-time fighter. Andy was easily distracted, and he would use those distractions to keep his brain busy, turning each thought into something positive that would eclipse everything that was wrong in his life, and possibly the world.

But after that full moon was gone, whenever his eyebrows met in the middle, whenever he stopped listening, whenever he took a deep breath, his spirit would dive into a starless, dark sky. And, even though April hated the stars per se, she did want to bring a little light to his days.

‘‘That one on the left,’’ Andy pointed towards a white house with a short walkway in the front yard.

‘‘Looks pretty nice,’’ April pulled in. The heavy rain blurred most of her sight, but it still seemed like a more than decent place for a musician with sporadic payments.

‘‘Burly pays for most of the rent,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘Anyway, thanks for the ride.’’

It wasn’t like April acted like an Uber driver for all her clients, but the storm didn’t seem likely to abate any soon, and given that Jen had taken the only umbrella in the office, she thought she could spare Andy a second shower.

‘‘No problem,’’ April smiled at him.

But Andy didn’t make the slightest move. Instead, he stared blankly at the empty street in front of them. April gave him time, enjoying the silence as the windshield wiper helplessly tried to do its job.

‘‘You know, I’d never talked about this before,’’ he said after a while. ‘‘Not to my family, not even to Burly. It… feels good.’’

‘‘Aren’t you close with your family?’’

‘‘I used to be. But now they’re super mad at me, obviously.’’

‘‘Obviously?’’

‘‘I didn’t go to the funeral. I just… I couldn’t see myself there, you know? It would have felt…’’ Andy paused, lost for words.

‘‘Real?’’

‘‘Yeah. That was a terrible thing to do, I know.’’

‘‘It wasn’t. You just weren’t ready, and that’s normal.’’

‘‘And wrong.’’

‘‘Not all of us process things at the same pace, Andy. You were closer with your dad than your brothers, you needed a little more time, and that’s okay.’’

Andy looked at her at last, though with sad, glistening eyes. ‘‘And how do you know how long is too long?’’ he wiped what would otherwise had been the first betraying tear. ‘‘I mean, it’s been six months now and I still haven’t shown up.’’

‘‘You haven’t visited him?’’ April’s tone was all but accusatory. In fact, her voice was almost a whisper. She was feeling his pain like a true artist.

Andy shook his head, biting his lip as if that could keep him from bursting into tears. Yet again, April cursed that generalized fear of emotional situations, that well-spread reluctance to expose one’s vulnerability. She once had been cold as a pane of ice, and ever since _the worst day_ , she’d been sick of it.  But no matter how much Andy tried to hide it, he was crying for help in that car, with April as the only witness. And that was the tragedy of it: people should cry, but they should never cry alone.

Instinctively, April unbuckled her seat belt and wrapped him in her arms. Andy hugged her back, burying his head in the girl’s shoulder and finally letting it all out. He was incredibly warm; the perfect contrast to her own low temperature. Sure it wasn’t the most professional thing to do, and once again she found herself wondering where the limits were.

During her academic life, April had been trained not to soak her patients’ emotions like a sponge, taught to keep that empathy at bay so it wouldn’t destroy her in the end. And, to this day, that was exactly what she’d been doing. She’d restrained her own talent, because she knew that was the only way she could help people. But Andy Dwyer was testing that. There was something utterly unbearable about his suffering; the pain was so blatantly undeserved for someone that pure, it twisted April’s insides every time she glimpsed that shadow gnawing at him. There’s no art without hurt, she knew that. But boundaries were still necessary in her job. Not because society said so, but for the sake of her own sanity.

Andy broke apart just when April was about to. He looked calmer now, and after he wiped his tears off again, the redness in his eyes was the only evidence of his outburst.

‘‘Sorry,’’ he chuckled. A sad smile, but a smile after all. ‘‘That was totally uncool.’’

‘‘Don’t worry. Again, that’s why we’re here.’’

‘‘I thought it was because of the rain,’’ Andy frowned, confused.

‘‘Well, that too,’’ she laughed.

And only then did April realize there was something missing: at some point, it had stopped raining.

A tap on her window made April turn in her seat. There was a part of her that hated the interruption more than it was probably reasonable.

‘‘Hey!’’ a dark-haired man greeted them from the sidewalk.

‘‘Oh, that’s Burly,’’ Andy said to her.

April rolled the window down so they could talk. Andy introduced them, but only after an awkward silence.

‘‘Nice to meet you, April,’’ Burly smiled at her. ‘‘Took me a while to convince him, but I’m glad he finally came to see you.’’

‘‘Me too!’’ Andy exclaimed from the passenger seat. ‘‘Therapy is awesome! Dude, you should try it.’’

There it was, the spark of distraction Andy needed to kindle the embers of his intrinsic joy. Now he was smiling wide in his excitement, as though the last two hours he’d spent with her had been the best of his life.

‘‘I might have to if you keep doing your weird experiments.’’

‘‘Hey,’’ Andy protested. ‘‘The Bag of Smells is starting to give some serious results.’’

April couldn’t help but laugh.

‘‘You’d better stop… If you want me to let you play, that is,’’ Burly said as he took something out of the plastic bag he was carrying. It was a thin box, and April recognized the cover of one of the most violent video-games ever released.

‘‘BLOOD BATH 2?!’’ Andy shouted, nearly deafening April for life. ‘‘Yes! Let’s go play now!’’ He raised one hand for a high-five, to which she responded. But the clapping sound of their hands suddenly brought her back to reality.

Burly headed towards the front door, and Andy got off the car to follow him inside. Expecting April to do the same, he stopped and turned around in the walkway when she didn’t.

‘‘Aren’t you coming?’’ he asked, disappointedly.

 _Yes_ , she could have said. She could have joined them and played what she knew was the best game in history. She could have done something different with one friend and a half, or maybe two, eventually. That would have made Leslie so happy. She could have kept the part of herself she felt leaving her body as Andy physically distanced in that street. But that was the very reason why she couldn’t stay. Boundaries. Were. Needed.

‘‘Can’t, sorry,’’ April turned the engine on. The sooner she left, the easier it would be. ‘‘I got this…’’ Apartment to clean? Netflix to watch? Ice cream to eat? ‘‘Thing.’’

‘‘Oh, okay,’’ his face fell. ‘‘See you next week?’’

‘‘Sure.’’

The Volkswagen tires screeched as April stepped on the accelerator, trying her best not to look at the rearview mirror as she drove away. She was acting cold again, and she hated her guts for it. At times like this, there was only one place she could go to put things into perspective, only one person she could talk to. April scoffed at the irony.


	4. Nice

As expected, going to see Natalie was exactly what April needed. The young therapist finally had the chance to get everything off her chest. She told her sister about Andy, about his personal trauma, about what had happened in the car and the way that made her feel. Of course there were all these rules of confidentiality, rules that April would always respect. But it wasn’t like Natalie could tell anyone about it.

Visiting her also gave April a goal as to what Andy should accomplish by the end of his mental journey. From then on, each session was aimed at making Andy more and more comfortable when talking about his father. Not only did she wanted him to recall their past together –and boy, most of those moments made April either crack up or a little too emotional-, but she would also put an emphasis on the present, and how Mr. Dwyer would feel about current events.

Andy needed to understand that there was no point in trying to make sense of it, because death is equally senseless and necessary, and most times completely out of anyone’s control. He now needed to remember the fact that he’d been the best son he could have been to the best father he could have had, and that was a priceless truth he would never lose. A part of his father would always be with him; his memory would never leave him, and could even help Andy through life if he chose to use it well, but could also freeze it if he didn’t.

Thus, that was the focus of their following sessions. Things got easier after that intense first encounter, and, progressively, April felt more at ease listening to him, just like Andy did addressing the ghost he couldn’t get rid of. The frequency of their conversations also allowed him to ration the drama, so those initial breakdowns were soon replaced by calmer divagations, as his soul unfolded for April to see the damaged parts of it.

* * *

It was a cold Wednesday despite the sun’s shinning bright in the clear sky. Andy had rescheduled his Tuesday appointment; he’d had an important gig that night, and it wasn’t likely that he was going to get up at a reasonable hour either, so they had agreed to put it off until noon.

Andy certainly looked a bit tired, yet he was the usual bundle of positivity. Even during the hardest topics they went over, he remained quite sober, and talked naturally about the things that would have had him in tears a month before. This had been the case of their last couple of sessions, and sometimes April thought she should be patted on the back by what was left of her ego. Except it was Andy who deserved all the credit; he’d worked hard since day one, listening, following her advice and instructions. All in all, willing to get better, and even though that wasn’t always enough, it had made it all possible in his case. Of course he wasn’t done with his duel yet, but April knew it was time for him to take the next step.

‘‘What?’’ Andy asked mid-explanation. ‘‘Is it too weird?’’

‘‘No,’’ April smiled. ‘‘I used to roleplay, too. Even in high school.’’

‘‘But is it weird that I still do it now?’’

‘‘Not at all. It’s cool, and fun, and it confuses people. Win-win.’’

‘‘You missed one ‘win’,’’ he corrected.

‘‘Whatever,’’ April laughed. ‘‘Hey, I was thinking… You’ve been doing quite good lately.’’

‘‘Have I?’’ his face lit.

‘‘Yeah. I think… I think you might be ready.’’

‘‘What? You mean we are done, like, forever?’’ The first shadow of the day crossed Andy’s expression. Except it lingered there, a reminiscence of Johnny Panic that had nothing to do with the London band.

‘‘No,’’ April shook her head. ‘‘I think you are ready to go visit your dad. If you want to, of course. There’s no pressure.’’

‘‘Oh,’’ he breathed out, seemingly relieved.

In the back of April’s mind, something warned her about Andy’s reaction. Was he getting too attached to their meetings? Was she?

Andy pondered her suggestion for a few seconds, maybe a whole minute went by as he mulled it over like there were a thousand pros and cons to consider before making any decision. He would look up at her every once in a while, and there was something new in those green eyes, as if he were looking at her for the last time. April’s stomach twisted as she waited for a response, although maybe she owed herself a bunch of other answers as well.

‘‘Could I…’’ he spoke at last, ‘‘take some time to think about it?’’

‘‘Of course,’’ April nodded, comprehensively. Then, her hand acted independently and placed itself on Andy’s knee. It felt… nice. Nice. ‘‘Shit.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘Nothing,’’ April sat back on the chair. ‘‘I think we’ve run out of time for today.’’

* * *

‘‘Let me help you with that.’’

Andy piled up all the plastic chairs they’d used during the group therapy meeting as if they were made of air. His forehead was all sweaty after almost an hour of moving all the furniture back to its place (Leslie had gone on a date with Ben after the meeting, albeit not without previously insisting they leave the Recreation Center as they’d found it). As it turned out, everybody else had also a compromise, or somewhere they had to be at in time. Only Jen stayed, but April sent her home after it became clear the young girl wasn’t going to lift a finger.

‘‘Thanks,’’ April sighed. ‘‘Well, I think that’s all.’’

‘‘Great.’’

April made sure all the lights were off, and then they walked over the main door, which Andy held for her. It was no later than seven, but the sky was already black save for the waning moon up there.

‘‘So,’’ April said as she locked the door. ‘‘What do you think of your first group therapy meeting?’’

‘‘Oh, it was amazing. I mean, your other patients are so cool. And Leslie’s cake was the best one I’ve ever had.’’

‘‘Yeah, she’s pretty awesome.’’

The first blow of cold wind chilled April to the bone. She zipped her coat and put on a pair of wool gloves, whereas Andy seemed to be okay in his maroon hoodie.

‘‘I still don’t know how you do it,’’ Andy piped up.

‘‘What?’’

‘‘I don’t know… Dealing with all their problems. Fixing people.’’

‘‘I don’t fix them,’’ she scoffed. ‘‘I just give them the tools so they can get better themselves.’’

‘‘Well, I think you fixed me.’’

April pursed her nose because she’d never accepted a compliment the right way in her life, but couldn’t help but smile afterwards.

‘‘Hey,’’ he stopped when they left the parking lot behind. ‘‘Where is your car?’’

‘‘I let Leslie take it for her date,’’ April shrugged. ‘‘But if she scratches it the least bit, I’m cursing her for life.’’

‘‘Then she’d probably be your patient forever,’’ Andy laughed right before his expression turned earnest.

‘‘You okay?’’

‘‘Yeah’’, he sighed, his scowl still present. ‘‘Well, huh… Guess I’ll see you on Friday.’’

‘‘Okay.’’ Why? Why was she so disappointed? Why did she want to keep him there just a little longer? Clearly there was something off with him… But was that the reason? ‘‘See ya.’’

Andy turned around and walked away from her… Except he was heading the same direction April’s apartment was in. It would be stupid to just follow him down the same street, but again, was it appropriate? April stood there, considering her options, and before she knew it she was running after him and tugging at his sweatshirt.

‘‘Wait,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m going this way, too.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

They walked in silence for a while. The orange streetlights and the incipient fog combined endowed the street with a creepy atmosphere that April just loved. Who cared if that wasn’t the most ethical thing to do? Wasn’t it nice to simply stroll down the freshly rained sidewalks with a friend? Wait, was Andy her friend? It certainly took two people for a friendship to be so called; there had to be a balance between both parts. Especially when it came to sharing stuff, to confide things to the other. And then she realized why Andy was different from her other clients. It wasn’t a one-way relationship that they had, but he would also listen to her and show interest in her story. He didn’t vent as she listened – they had actual conversations, and the truth was she couldn’t get enough of them.

‘‘D’you have any plans for tonight?’’ April asked after a while.

‘‘No.’’

Well, that was a short answer. The distant tone was equally strange, and so not him it felt like a million alarms had gone off between them. But the worst sign was within the unsaid: he didn’t ask what _her_ plans were. He didn’t care for it, and he always did.

‘‘Sure you are okay?’’

‘‘Look,’’ he snapped, turning to face her. ‘‘I think I’m gonna take the bus or something.’’

There was something devastating in his eyes, but only because of its cold nature. Something broke inside April’s chest, something hurt and lost, something that wondered why he was acting like a jerk all of a sudden. Few things in life are more painful than to be undeservedly mistreated, and even though April’s patience was close enough to the infinite, she felt like he’d just stabbed her with the sharpest knife. Right then, Andy looked desperate to get rid of her, and the bus stop across the street must have presented itself as the perfect excuse.

‘‘Okay,’’ she whispered.

He eyed her one last time before heading towards the shelter. For a moment, all that coldness seemed fragile, about to give way to his real self. But he didn’t hug her, nor did he give her the explanation she so desperately needed.

He just walked away.


	5. Blizzard

_Why am I doing this?_

April kept driving in spite of every bit of her rationality telling her not to. First of all, she wasn’t one for dragging, and begging for other people’s company wasn’t in her nature. She knew better than that by this point. Secondly, it wasn’t like April missed him; he’d been a jerk to her in the cruelest way, and she definitely didn’t need that in her life.

_You do miss him._

Anyhow, that wasn’t the reason she’d decided to cancel all her appointments that morning and risk her life driving in the middle of a blizzard. April needed to check if he was okay, that’s all, if only out of basic human decency. Technically, Andy was still her patient, even if he hadn’t showed up at her office for almost two weeks.

_I shouldn’t be here._

Yet, she knocked on the white house main door with her dead cold knuckles, the strong wind messing up her hair even after she’d reached the front porch. The stupid door opened at last, though it wasn’t Andy she found.

‘‘April?’’ a puzzled Burly asked. ‘‘What are you doing here? Is Andy okay?’’

‘‘Could you let me in?’’ April wrapped her arms around herself to keep the gust from carrying her away. ‘‘I’m fucking freezing.’’

‘‘Sure.’’

Once inside, April shook the snow off her coat and followed Burly to the kitchen.

‘‘So,’’ she sighed, ‘‘Andy isn’t here?’’

‘‘No. I thought he was with you.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘He said he was going to therapy when he left the house earlier.’’

‘‘Well, he hasn’t been coming for a while, so…’’

‘‘Really?’’ Confusion and a sense of betrayal blended in Burly’s expression.

‘‘Yeah. That’s why I came. Is he… alright?’’

‘‘I thought so… At least he was,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘But he’s been in a mood, lately, I don’t know why. Well, I do now,’’ Burly gestured at her. ‘‘What an idiot. I told him I’d lend him the money if that was a problem, but he’s too proud-’’

‘‘I don’t think that’s the case,’’ April interrupted.

_You would do it for free._

‘‘But,’’ Burly went on, ‘‘if he’s missing your sessions, where is he really going?’’

The question floated in the air like a toxic cloud April didn’t want to run away from. In fact, she was desperate to figure out what its components were.

‘‘Hey, hmm… Could I use your bathroom?’’

‘‘Of course. It’s right down the hall.’’

‘‘Thanks.’’

April found it easily, but she didn’t go in. Instead, she headed towards Andy’s room –out of the two, it had to be the one with the Colts posters on the walls-, suddenly willing to do everything that was morally wrong for a therapist, and for a person, really.

Hadn’t the adrenaline been pumping around her body, she would have realized how those four walls encapsulated Andy’s essence, as rooms tend to do with their owners. It smelled like him. It was just as messy as he was, with funny items and prank toys all over the place, and lots of plaid shirts both on the floor and on the rocking chair in the corner. In any other circumstances, she would have smiled at such reminiscence of his everlasting childishness. She would even have noticed the pictures.

But April barely had time to think –she would have to stop immediately if she did-, let alone to focus on anything save for every little thing on Andy’s desk, shelves, and bedside table. Anything that would give her some clue, something to dig into. Finding nothing of interest, April left behind what was left of her integrity by opening his drawers.

_Are you crazy?_

Nothing. Nothing. Jackpot. Among a bunch of used tissues, there was an elegant business card that left April out of breath.

‘‘April?’’ Burly called from the other side of the house. ‘‘You okay?’’

The card fell from April’s shaky fingers, and she quickly retrieved it to take a picture of it with her phone. She then placed the piece of paper where she’d found it, rushed to the bathroom and flushed the toilet to finish her act.

‘‘Everything alright?’’ Burly asked once she stepped into the living room.

‘‘Yeah,’’ April assured. ‘‘You know, girls’ stuff.’’

If you want to shut them up, make them uncomfortable.

‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘I should go,’’ she grabbed her coat and headed towards the door. ‘‘Thanks for the talk,’’ April half-smiled at him.

‘‘Wait!’’

She turned around, her hand already on the knob.

‘‘Should I talk to him about this?’’ he asked, seriously concerned.

‘‘That’s up to you, I guess.’’ And, for the first time, April didn’t think of Andy as her patient. She felt so painfully detached from him, as though she was no longer involved in whatever might happen in that house from then on. It was literally none of her business anymore. ‘‘Just… Don’t be too harsh on him,’’ she added her last words on the matter. A fair epitaph for yet another lost cause.

‘‘Okay. Thanks for everything, April.’’

 _Scoff_.

* * *

April dialed the number in spite of every bit of her rationality telling her not to. She’d been pacing side to side back at her small apartment, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like the cape of the superheroine she would never be. The hot tea she’d made before was now as cold as everything else, untouched and untouchable.

April waited as the first tones confirmed she was indeed calling. The back of her mind still couldn’t believe how blatantly she was breaking all the rules that day, still wondered if all those more than questionable measures were worth taking, and even if she was really doing all that for the right motives. But the truth was she still needed an explanation. He’d probably made the right decision, though, but April deserved at least one last conversation.

_It shouldn’t even matter._

‘‘Ann Perkins’ office, how can I help you?’’ a young man answered the phone.

‘‘Yeah, hi. Hello.’’ Why is talking on the phone always so hard? Is that why receptionists exist? ‘‘Yeah, is this the… ‘life coach’?’’ April remembered how that Perkins hag called herself, according to her business card.

‘‘It is. Would you like to schedule an appointment?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘Perfect. I’m going to need your name and your phone number, please.’’

‘‘Well, I’m Janet Snakehole,’’ she rescued the rich widow she pretended to be when she was a kid… which again reminded her of him and his weird, ~~adorable~~ habits.

‘‘Okay,’’ there was a brief pause as Ann’s assistant took notes. ‘‘And your number is…?’’

‘‘Could you give me the address, please?’’

That was the whole aim of the call, really. Perkins’ place didn’t even appear in Google Maps. Wait, did hers?

‘‘Griffith Street, 42.’’

April hung up right then and let the phone slip from her hand and onto the couch. Now, in silence, she had a lot to think about. In silence, disappointment and regret collided, a friendly reminder that only shitty people did what she’d done. The worst part was, she knew he’d forgive her. He would even wrap her in his arms, he’d say everything had been a stupid misunderstanding, that they were cool, that they were friends. He’d stay and watch Netflix with her, and Right and Wrong would finally vanish.

_Stop it._

April looked at the window, almost expecting him to climb up those five stories and stick his huge head in. The storm had passed already, but it was too cold and dark outside for April to even consider going out. She would mull everything over that night; maybe in the morning she would be able to think more clearly. And then, she’d decide what to do with that poisoned information.


	6. The Feat

A soft, cold breeze swept the autumn leaves away on Natalie’s tombstone. The craved pumpkin April had brought for her remained still, though; its orange matching everything around. She would never bring her flowers (Natalie would have hated them), but not a single Halloween had April failed to make the scariest jack-o'-lantern for her.

‘‘Anyway,’’ April went on. ‘‘I ended up going to Ann’s office. I waited outside, in the car, until… Until I saw him walking down the street.’’

Normal people would have interrupted her speech at this point. Natalie wouldn’t, of course, not even if she’d been alive. That was one of the things April most liked about her sister: she was an excellent listener.

‘‘He disappeared through the doors,’’ April slid one finger on the granite surface, drawing over their shared last name with invisible ink. ‘‘At first I thought I’d wait for him. But I couldn’t. I mean, what would I have said to him? Plus, he has every right to change therapists if he thinks this isn’t working. Except-’’

She waited a bit, trying to find the right words. No sound but the wind.

‘‘Except what?’’ A familiar voice asked from behind.

What was he doing there? Of all places, Pawnee’s cemetery was the only one Andy could never set foot in. Had he followed her?

April turned around, only to see him standing a couple of gravestones away. Once again, he didn’t seem to need any warm clothes over his conveniently brownish plaid shirt.

‘‘How long you’ve been here?’’ she asked, startled.

‘‘Just a couple of minutes,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘That guy you talk about seems like a total jerk.’’

April stared blankly at him, unsure whether or not he was joking. For all she knew about him, he might as well not.

‘‘Are you serious?’’

‘‘What?’’ Andy furrowed his brow, genuinely muddled. Realization trudged slowly in his brain. ‘‘Oh. It was me?’’

April rolled her eyes, and then she bit her lip, because something in her stomach told her she would embarrass herself otherwise.

‘‘I’m the jerk,’’ he scoffed. ‘‘Makes sense.’’

‘‘No, you’re not,’’ April admitted. She was tired. Tired of always finding someone else to blame. But, most of all, she was tired of being angry at him. ‘‘You wanted to go, and I should have let you.’’

‘‘I didn’t want to go, April,’’ Andy shook his head. ‘‘I wanted to stay. I just…’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘I realized I wanted to stay forever. That’s why I didn’t want to come here when both of us knew I was ready.’’

‘‘You didn’t want our sessions to end,’’ April said understandingly.

‘‘Yeah. And that was, kind of, a wake-up call. When we talked that night… Man, I don’t know. I wasn’t supposed to be feeling that way, right? I mean, I pay, you listen-’’

‘‘Do you think I do this for the money?’’ she snapped at him.

‘‘Yes?’’

April stepped aside and waved towards Nat’s tomb. Andy approached, making the dry leaves rustle under his feet.

‘‘Is this… The same Natalie you used to tell me about?’’

‘‘Yeah.’’

‘‘You never mentioned she’d died,’’ Andy said under his breath. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’

‘‘She didn’t technically _die_.’’

It took another while for Andy to figure out what she meant. But, as it was often the case, he did, eventually.

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ he repeated.

‘‘It’s okay. I always come here to talk to her. It makes me feel better, somehow.’’

‘‘So, she’s your therapist?’’ Andy half-smiled.

‘‘Yeah,’’ she smiled back at him. ‘‘I guess you could say so.’’

‘‘Speaking of therapists, I’m not seeing Ann anymore.’’

‘‘Why?’’ But the relief was so great April could barely bring herself to care for the actual reasons.

‘‘It just… wasn’t working with her,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘Plus, you already helped me through the hardest part.’’

‘‘So… D’you really wanna see him?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ he nodded. ‘‘Would you come with me?’’

‘‘Of course.’’

And again, that mutual smile warmed everything between them, making both the world and the weather a little less cruel.

 

‘‘Sorry again for being such an asshole,’’ Andy piped up as they walked down the graveyard’s walkway, ghosts watching them on both sides.

‘‘Well, it _was_ a dick move,’’ April snorted. ‘‘But you weren’t the only one having weird feelings, you know?’’

‘‘So, is it okay if I like you?’’

His innocence made her smile again.

‘‘Is it okay if _I_ like _you_?’’ she asked playfully, and for a moment she felt like a child again.

But Andy didn’t have the chance to answer. April looked around when his expression turned earnest – they had reached their destination. Mr. Dwyer’s stone was newer and cleaner than Natalie’s, as if someone came regularly to take care of it. A bouquet of roses adorned the vessel on its edge, probably Mrs. Dwyer’s choice.

‘‘Hi, dad,’’ Andy said in a broken voice.

April reached for his hand, and he immediately intertwined his fingers with hers. The squeeze she gave him seemed to give him the strength he needed.

‘‘This is April.’’

Considering all the things he probably had to tell his father, introducing her should definitely have been low on the list. And still…

‘‘She’s the main reason I’m here. The only reason, really,’’ Andy turned to smile at her.

Just like that, Andy had managed to do the hardest part in any conversation: breaking the ice. Something April still deemed to be nearly impossible, while Andy had made it look so easy, and yet this was such a feat for him. April watched as he spoke, never cutting him off, just listening, and maybe laughing at the funny parts, and maybe shading a tear or two at the saddest. But it was okay. He’d made it. Andy had realized he could actually live without his father, as long as he did so in a way Mr. Dwyer would be proud of.

 

Their hands were still entwined as they walked down the street to where April’s car was parked. The sky had darkened already, but the city lights illuminated the way now that they were out of the shady cemetery.

‘‘Woah,’’ Andy breathed out. ‘‘I feel so much better now.’’

‘‘I bet you do,’’ she chuckled. ‘‘I’m proud of you.’’

‘‘I couldn’t have done this without you.’’

April rolled her eyes in answer.

‘‘Seriously,’’ Andy suddenly stopped, gently spinning her by the waist so she would look at him. ‘‘Thank you.’’

Surprisingly enough, there were still things April was sick of. One of them was not being able to physically express what she felt for the man beside her. She despised any verbal restrictions, at least when it came to show one’s emotions. Thus, why should she hold herself back now?

April tiptoed to kiss him, and he responded gladly. They fused together in an embrace that lasted forever, and so, Pawnee’s freezing cold was never again a bother for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this, thank you, thank you, thank you!


	7. Missing Moments - Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lunabelles on Tumblr as a "breathtaking kiss" :)
> 
> Takes place right after the previous chapter.

Andy couldn’t believe how small April was in his arms. Even in all those warm clothes and that thick, yellow coat, she seemed so slender and fragile, as opposed to her inner strength. Because it sure took a lot of courage to go through all the things that she'd had to deal with, and still having both the energy and the willingness to help others. The admiration he felt for her eclipsed all traces of pity, though, and that was part of the reason he still couldn’t believe what was happening right then.

In contrast to April’s toughness, Andy knew he could never rise to her level. Yes, he was four times stronger than her on the outside, but he’d been a crybaby ever since they first met. That wasn’t a bad thing, as April had taught him, but still he doubted he deserved her. That was something they would have to figure out together, anyway.

A raindrop landed on his cheek as he kissed April in that solitary street near the graveyard. But not another one followed, nor did the rain falling against the pavement make any sound. It was a sole drop, warm and strange. It didn’t even feel like water.

Andy broke apart, only to see April’s eyes damply staring at him, and he understood that the downpour existed only behind them.

‘‘What?’’ he asked softly, his eyes still fixed on hers.

‘‘Nothing,’’ April smiled. ‘‘I’m just so happy this is happening.’’

Their faces remained few inches away from each other. Her cheeks were colored pink, maybe because of the cold, maybe because of the moment they were sharing. Either way, to Andy she looked more beautiful than ever.

‘‘Is it, really?’’ Andy wiped off her second tear with his thumb.

Then she kissed him again, as if she wanted to prove something, as if there had never been anything as real as them. That was enough to convince him he wasn’t dreaming.


End file.
